


The Highwayman

by EndoratheWitch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Death, F/M, Song - Freeform, Violence, highwayman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoratheWitch/pseuds/EndoratheWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on Loreena McKennit's song The Highwayman</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Highwayman

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Loreena McKennit's song The Highwayman

The night was dark as she slipped outside the tavern door. She looked around quickly; not a soul was stirring this late at night. She pulled her shawl around her moving swiftly around to the back when she heard the sound of a horse’s whinny. She moved toward the old oak near the fields and she saw the moonlight catch his shadow. 

There he was waiting for her—her highwayman. She rushed over, his arms opened wide for her folding her against him when she ran into them. He held her close before lifting her chin with his finger so that he could look at her. Brown eyes, liquid and beautiful stared back at him. His haunted blue eyes seemed less so when he gazed down at her. “My Marianne…” He breathed her name, leaning down to steal a kiss from her warm, plum-colored lips. Her body melted against his, returning the stolen kiss. 

They met like this, as many nights as the fates would allow, to steal kisses and make love under the moon’s watchful eye until the time he could steal her away forever. 

* 

They lay together in a hidden patch of forest, naked on his claret velvet coat having made love in the sight of the moon and trees. “I brought you something,” Bog whispered against her hair. 

She smiled. “I told you not to, my father would notice.” 

Bog shifted to his elbow. “Not this.” He reached for his hat. Hidden in the brim was a ribbon, a ribbon the color of his coat. “For your hair, my love.” Soft tears brimmed at the corner of her eyes as she held the velvet ribbon. “Oh, Bog, it’s beautiful.” 

“Will you wear it for me one night?” He kissed her temple. 

“Yes, when next you come, I will have it in my hair.” 

His kiss was deep and passionate as he pulled her soft form against him one more time. 

* 

Two nights later the sound of horse’s hooves outside mixed with the rush of the wind through the bare branches. The sound was both eerie and beautiful, they made Marianne’s heart race. She was up, her blankets pulled around her waiting for him to arrive, her lover. She heard the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones below, but still she waited, waiting for their agreed to signal. Finally she heard the sound of a whip against the glass, a light thud of sound, then a gentle whistle, a tune only the two of them were privy to knowing. Teeth grabbing her lip as she tried to contain her grin, she quickly lit her lantern hurrying to the window. 

She threw her window shutters outward to look down. Holding her lantern aloof, she knew it was him by the color of his coat, the cock of his hat and the lace at his throat made from one of her dresses, her fancy dressed highwayman. But it was his height that gave him away to her stuttering heart. She gazed down at him, all her love in her brown eyes, his smile bright in the lantern light as he waited on his horse gazing up for her, his heart in his throat. As Marianne leaned out, her braided hair fell over her shoulder. His eyes strayed to the ribbon he had given her. She had plaited in her dark brown hair, his smile increasing. 

“I came for a kiss, Marianne.” He grinned roguishly. 

“I’m after a prize tonight. One that will allow us to steal away, leave this place far behind. I will take the prize then be back for you in the morning, my love. We can leave together. If they harry me, I will have to hide, but wait for me, my love. If I do not come by morning, look for me in the moonlight tomorrow. I promise I will come for you, my Marianne, my love, by moonlight at the latest.” She leaned over as far as she could, a soft smile only for him on her lips. “Be careful, Bog. I will wait for you. I love you, my noble thief.” 

She couldn’t reach him though she tried, so she unbraided her dark hair, removing the lover’s knot, the ribbon he gave her slipped from her tresses letting it tumble free. 

Bog pulled his leather glove off with his teeth before he lifted up as far as he could, standing in the stirrups. He reached his long arm up to her. Her hair fell toward him, the night air catching the perfume of it. His long fingers caressed the dark waves, slowly kissing the tresses he could reach. “I love you, my sweet Marianne.” 

“Forever and always, Bog my love. Hurry back for me.” 

“Aye, I will.” 

He stared at her longingly with those haunted blue eyes before he dropped back down to the saddle. He tugged on the reins of his horse, turning, leaving, yet with one quick look over his shoulder. Marianne watched him disappear into the darkness, her heart going with him. 

* 

Marianne worked all the next day waiting for Bog to return. The morning came and went as did the rest of the day, but still he did not appear. She tried not to be worried. They would never catch him, never had and this time would be no different. He would be there tonight for her. They would leave this place, running far away to finally be together. 

That night as the moon rose high, several armed men came into the tavern. Marianne was putting some tankards on the bar, speaking with her father when the door opened. Red coats, all of them the king’s soldiers. Marianne’s heart sank. One of them she recognized, Roland. 

She had been about to marry him until she met Bog. Bog had made her realize what real love was, she had broken her contract with Roland, refused to marry him knowing him for a cheat and a scoundrel in the worst sense. He had learned why she had broken off with him. He had made it his mission to destroy Bog, to kill him or bring him to justice, preferring the former alternative. 

* 

Roland saw her, knowing she would be here. So he graced her with a charming, but vindictive smile. “Drinks for my men!” Marianne looked to her father. His face was disgusted, knowing that to refuse would be worse. He nodded to his daughter to go ahead and serve them. Marianne thanked the stars above that Dawn, her sister, was gone, married and off away from all of this. 

She served them, trying to keep her temper under control. The men laughed and made rude jokes or talked about the hanging of robbers and thieves. But when Roland smacked her on the rear, she turned and slapped him so hard the whole tavern fell silent. Roland narrowed his eyes, his fingers to the reddening mark on his face. He hissed low and wickedly. “We need to set a trap for your highwayman.” 

He grabbed her arm in a painful grip. Marianne screamed and struggled, the men laughing as Roland dragged her upstairs. She fought him every step of the way, Roland ignoring her attempt to break free, hauling her painfully up the stairs to her bedroom. Her father started to say something, but one of the men pulled a pistol on him. “We ain’t going to hurt her! Just going to keep her quiet for her lover’s trap.” 

Roland slammed her against the foot of her bed knocking the air from her lungs, and with help of a couple of men, even as she struggled, he tied her to the foot of the bed. The men laughed. Roland grinned at her taking a ribbon, her lover’s ribbon, gagging her with it. He then grabbed one of the men’s muskets and shoved it painfully under her breast, tying it securely to her side. “Not a word Marianne, not a word. 

Your Bog is going to be dead before sunrise. You will get to see it all from your window as we shoot him down. We know he is coming for you. You will marry me when this is over. With your lover dead, you’ll have no choice.” He sneered grabbing her face painfully with one hand and pressing his lips to her bound mouth. She snarled and fought, but she was too securely bound to the bed. He pulled back with a smirk and then turned away to direct his men. 

“I want a gun at every window. As soon as he is close, I want the first shot. I want him dead.” Roland opened her window so she could see the path that she knew Bog would follow to the tavern. 

* 

She lost track of how long they waited, the moon rising high, clear moonlight gazed down. They would easily see him coming. She quietly twisted and strained. She felt blood drip down her wrists as she struggled against the ropes, but the knots held tight. Her skin tore, blood making them slick, but finally, her bloody fingers found the trigger. No sooner had she placed her blood-soaked finger on the trigger of the musket than she heard the night ring with the sound of a horse’s hooves. Her eyes leapt to the window, a horseman was coming down the path at lightning speed. She knew it was Bog, it could only be him! 

He rode closer and closer, nearer and nearer. She stared at his dark form on the highway, her heart broke, she loved him so much and he was coming to his death. She had no choice, she had to save him. Her eyes grew wide as she tried to burn his image into her mind to take with her into the afterlife. Her heart burned, her tears started to slowly run down the corner of her eyes, all the dreams they had planned together, a life far away, children, family, all would be gone, but he would live. She made a wish to the night, let him know how much she loved him. Then she pressed the trigger. 

* Bog was riding quickly, pushing his mount. He knew his time frame to get Marianne was narrow. When morning came, he had been hiding as soldiers searched for him, cursing his luck. As soon as he was safe, he would come for her. Now the horse bent forward trying to beat the wind when Bog heard the loud crack of a musket firing. 

The sound echoed through the night, sharp and final. Bog stopped for a split second, pulling his horse up short before yanking on the reigns, twisting his mount around in one fluid movement, escaping into the night. Roland screamed in frustration and shock. He twisted around the instant the musket went off to see Marianne bent over, her long hair loose hiding her face, her blood dripping down the muzzle and off the ends of her dark hair. 

* 

It wasn’t until the morning that he learned of her fate. 

Bog prepared his horse, ready to go and retrieve Marianne when one of his men came rushing back from town. “Sir!! Bog! Your lady, Marianne, she’s dead sir!” 

The light of the world faded around him. Bog looked down at his companion. “What?” 

“The king’s men were at the tavern last night! They were there for you. Roland among them. He tied her up with a musket against her side to prevent her from warning you. But she shot herself to warn you sir! She’s killed herself to save you!” 

Bog stood there unmoving, his face turned grey as all color drained away, his haunted blue eyes became unfocused. He did not feel the tears run down his face, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Marianne is dead? My Marianne?” 

The pain was so intense he almost collapsed, except for his hand on the saddle of his horse he would have. His blood ran cold, he stared at nothing—there was nothing now. Suddenly the little man who told him of her death felt a saddle bag hit him in the chest. “Sir?” 

“Go.” Bog leapt onto his horse, yanking his rapier out. His companion watched in stunned silence as Bog turned his horse toward the tavern. He spurred the horse at a run, his mind a blank except that his Marianne was gone, gone because of him. He would kill them all. 

* 

Roland and his men were going down the road leaving the tavern keeper to take care of the body of his daughter. Roland was not heartbroken; he was angry. He had gotten nothing. He didn’t have Bog’s dead body and he didn’t have the woman. He snarled when they all heard the roar. Looking down the road, coming at them with his sword held high, was the highwayman, Bog King. For a moment Roland was shocked, questioning what the man was doing, but then Roland sneered. 

“Take AIM!!” He pulled his rapier free holding it up as Bog roared death at them, his horse speeding down on them. Just as he came closer, Roland could see him clearly, he could see the pain etched in Bog’s features. 

Roland grinned. “FIRE.” 

Bog saw Roland, he knew what was coming. He welcomed it. The shots ripped through him, tearing through his shoulder, his chest, his stomach. He lost his grip on his weapon, dropping it when his hand suddenly lost strength. His horse continued to ride forward, the men tried to shoot again, but it was Roland who had held his shot, rapier in one hand his musket aimed at Bog. 

He waited until Bog was almost on him, barely able to stay on the horse, bleeding from so many wounds. As the animal bore down, Roland smiled. Bog’s eyes met his, returning the smile. Roland, for a split second seemed unsure as Bog’s haunted eyes met his, but then Roland shot him. 

The bullet tore through Bog’s throat, a spray of blood exiting out the back of his neck. He toppled from the horse landing hard on his side, but he didn’t feel it. Bog lay there staring up the path that led to the tavern in the distance. The place where his Marianne died trying to protect him. 

The blood slowly stained the lace at his throat, the lace Marianne had given him from her best dress, turning the brilliant white a dark red. A slow smile formed across Bog’s face as his blood drained, running across the cobblestone path, now a dark crimson. He saw her come out of the tavern standing in the doorway, her hair braided in a lover’s knot, his ribbon twisted in her hair. She smiled at him and raised her hand in greeting, her face alight as she saw her lover. 

Bog whispered, smiling tenderly. “Marianne…”


End file.
